Outside Whitman Air Force Base in Wyoming, anti-war protesters formed a human chain, their signs reading, "Guam's bait, the Pacific Ocean's grave!"—directly condemning the strategy of using Guam as a feint target and exposing civilians to danger.
Meanwhile, Wall Street was experiencing equally violent turmoil.
Stark Industries' stock price had plunged due to the astronomical budget and immense uncertainty surrounding the "Abyssal Fortress" project. Pepper Potts was frantically dealing with shareholder inquiries and financing troubles.
Tony Stark's name had gone from a tech icon to the center of a storm of controversy—Savior? Or a dangerous monopolist?
S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra office... no, the advisory office.
The glass slowly turned between Alexander Pierce's fingers, its amber liquid reflecting the muted, cold light of the secret chamber.
The walls, disguised as a data backup center, shut out the outside world. Only Brock Rumlow's breathing came through the encrypted communication channel, steady as the beat of some precision machine.
"'Abyssal Fortress'..."
Pierce's voice flowed through the sealed space, carrying a cold, honed mockery. "Fury has been dazzled by Stark's arrogant little performance. He thinks there's only a monster in there? No, Rumlow. That is an incomparable treasure!"
He took a sip, his gaze seeming to pierce the glass as though he could already see that dark-red Giant Cocoon. "A life form capable of 'evolving' at the heart of a nuclear blast, then forcibly frozen in that critical state... The energy laws contained within it, that evolution equation forcibly cut short... its value is enough to turn Zola's algorithms into a child's scribbles, enough to make the Tesseract seem... far too mild."
On the holographic screen, Rumlow's face appeared blurred yet hard beneath encrypted ripples.
"Fury placed me in the oversight team. My authority is limited. Stark's fortress... J.A.R.V.I.S.'s tentacles are everywhere. Its physical barriers are